


The Way I Am

by songforeverystory



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Accidental Marriage, F/F, I am vomiting, Marriage, One Shot, did i mention it is VERY soft, happy birthday D!!!!!!!, soft, the softest, v never shot eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:14:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22176118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songforeverystory/pseuds/songforeverystory
Summary: Susie and Maria Williams.Not married, but they shared a last name.“Accidentally married.” Villanelle had offered, Eve had laughed.ORSnippets of a life post-Rome.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 5
Kudos: 233





	The Way I Am

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emdash90](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emdash90/gifts).



> Happy Birthday to the lovely, incredibly talented emdash90. If you aren't already reading her fics then I insist you go and check them out!! They are the bomb dot com. 
> 
> Important to maybe mention that in this very soft and fluffy fic, V didn't shoot Eve. Okay? Thanks! Bye.

_Kisses._

_The softest of kisses on her cheeks, forehead, jaw, nose, lips._

_Finally, her lips._

_Soft, sticky, mint chocolate chip kisses._

_She frowned into it, pulled away to investigate and peeked up at the woman with sleepy eyes._

_She gasped._

_“Off of the bed.” She ushered Villanelle away from Egyptian cotton sheets, pushed her until she was stood beside the bed, reaching out a hand to catch the drips of ice cream that melted down the side of the cone and threatened to make a mess of the dark hardwood floor._

_“It is 9 am,” she reminded the younger woman, “it isn’t… healthy, nor responsible to go out to get ice cream at 9 am.”_

_Villanelle cocked an eyebrow, smirked at her, shrugged and licked the ice cream indecently._

_“What you really mean is ‘it is not polite to go out to get ice cream at 9 am and not bring any back for your wife’, isn’t it?”_

_Eve huffed, shook her head, allowed her head to hit the pillow again and watched as Villanelle licked the ice cream. Long strokes of her tongue, too much eye contact, suggestive._

_The younger woman laughed, produced a melting strawberry cone from behind her back. “I did not forget you, Eve.”_

_Eve brightened, lifted herself onto her knees, reaching for the younger woman. Her fingers tangled in the delicate blonde locks at the nape of her neck, tugging on them gently as she pulled her down into a kiss, a proper kiss._

_“You,” she whispered mid-kiss, “are the best.”_

_Villanelle bit down on Eve’s lower lip and then pulled back in order to preen, shrugging. “Yes, Eve. I am.”_

-

They hadn’t ever made it to Alaska.

Instead, they had travelled north of Rome to the rural town of Perugia.

Villanelle had offered to drive, had insisted on driving, explaining it away as they needed to get out of Rome and quickly.

Her heart was racing in her chest, watching on as Villanelle drove fast and furiously through the city and then far beyond it.

She was on the run with an assassin.

Villanelle drove until she was tired, turning off of the main road, travelling along narrow country roads until she came to a stop outside of a farmhouse. A vast farm, no neighbours.

There was a fire burning, smoke billowing out of a chimney, Eve sighed.

“No more killing, enough for one day.” She told Villanelle with a raised eyebrow and a shake of her head—a warning, an instruction.

They were equals.

Villanelle hesitated but nodded her head.

Instead, Villanelle had approached the house, knocked on the door, introduced them as Susie and Maria and explained in perfect Italian that they were travelling through, looking for a place to stay. Villanelle slightly oversold her abilities and offered to help work the land in exchange for a room.

It was harvest season, and farmhands were like gold dust. They welcomed them into their home, situated them in a converted barn at the side of the house and they both let out a sigh of relief.

They shared their first kiss that night, lying in bed, facing one another.

A soft, sweet, goodnight kiss.

They stayed for six weeks.

Eve didn’t do much, mostly helping to cook and clean around the house.

She learnt how to cook things that Villanelle enjoyed the most.

They ate spaghetti.

She was changed, different, more alive, more herself.

Calm, strangely calm.

Falling in love.

They were almost at the end of their stay when they had sex for the first time.

Self-control was already waning thin. They would make out, hold each other, touch each other, but would both pull back before things went too far.

But when the woman walked in, a total mess from a hard day’s work. True work, labouring, Eve had realised the extent to which Villanelle was trying.

They were meeting in the middle.

And so she met her in the middle, instructed her to go and shower and followed behind her.

Eve’s arms wrapped around Villanelle from behind and she heard the younger woman’s breath hitch, her head tipping back, resting against Eve’s shoulder as the older woman stroked her stomach.

Lower and lower until her fingertips met pubic hair.

She touched Villanelle first, and then Villanelle touched her back.

Villanelle had already fallen in love, Eve wasn’t far behind.

-

From Perugia, they travelled up to Milan where Villanelle planned to meet with someone that could sort them out with some identification.

Eve wanted to accompany her, didn’t like the idea that they would be separated, worried it was a set-up.

They had gone from being completely off the grid to deep in the dark web and Eve was concerned by people’s willingness to help them.

Villanelle returned with documents. They weren’t watertight, but they were good enough to get by.

Susie and Maria Williams.

Not married, but they shared a last name.

“Accidentally married.” Villanelle had offered, Eve had laughed.

For two years they travelled around Europe. They found local cash-in-hand work, sometimes on farms, usually on farms.

Eve was happy.

Not tempted to step back into that old world one bit.

Villanelle still dabbled.

First, hunting satisfied the compulsion.

Second, nobodies—recluses, people that no one would miss.

Very carefully considered.

Eve allowed it, accepted it, loved her in spite of it and perhaps a little because of it.

They hadn’t spoken about settling somewhere, content to travel around, enjoy life.

They had stopped looking over their shoulders, they were relaxed. 

They were living on a farm in Slovenia, not a commercial farm, but a domestic one. They grew crops, reared animals and lived off of the land with the elderly couple that owned it.

After a few months, they were presented with the opportunity to buy it, the couple eager to sell up and move closer to their kids in the city.

Villanelle had laughed it off initially but had clearly thought of nothing else in the days that followed.

“Would it be so bad?” she had asked one evening.

Eve sighed. “I like it here, Villanelle, but I am worried that you will get restless.”

Villanelle shook her head, reached for her hand. “No, Eve. I have everything I want.”

Eve had smiled, reached over to stroke her cheek and nodded. “Well, if you are sure.”

They bought the farm.

-

Villanelle was turning 30.

“We should get married, for real,” Eve told her during post-coital cuddles one evening. “Wouldn’t you like that?”

They had friends here, they had picked up the language. They had a whole new life, and yet they remained at the centre of one another’s.

Eve wanted commitment and a party.

Villanelle had pulled away, regarded her incredulously. “Eve, we cannot do that.”

Eve frowned. “Why not?”

Villanelle stuttered, nervous. “Well, our identification would not hold up for starters, we do not need people sniffing around.”

Eve would have laughed at the way that Villanelle’s accent tangled around the phrase, butchered it, had she not been so deeply offended by her unwillingness to get married. Instead, she hummed, nodded, went quiet for a moment and then scoffed. “You don’t want to be married to me.”

She pulled away from the younger woman, turned over, rolled her way out of bed.

“Eve, we are practically married,” Villanelle argued, rolling her eyes.

“I don’t want to be _practically_ married.” She could have left it there, but she didn’t. “You would have married Anna in a heartbeat.”

Villanelle didn’t deny it.

They hardly spoke to each other for days afterwards.

March 12th, Villanelle turned 30.

-

Marriage and commitment became touchy subjects in their household.

Villanelle didn’t understand the need for it, felt that they had proven their commitment to one another tenfold.

She was right.

Eve didn’t even know why she was so set on a wedding.

She had hated being married before.

It had something to do with knowing that Villanelle would have given herself over to Anna so willingly and her inability to understand why she wouldn’t do the same for her.

Despite all of Villanelle’s reassurances, her insistence that she had been younger then, that she had been besotted by Anna in an unhealthy way (like she hadn’t been besotted by Eve in an unhealthy way), Eve was hurt by it.

She gave up on it, opted not to mention it again.

They argued more often and Eve worried that they were drifting apart.

Villanelle was killing more, becoming more brazen, more reckless.

Eve was annoyed.

But still, they loved one another, unconditionally.

-

February 14th.

Valentine’s Day.

Eve didn’t believe in it.

“I love you every day of the year.” She had told the woman.

“I know you do, but you do not buy me gifts every day of the year.”

Eve laughed awkwardly. “I didn’t buy you anything today either.”

Villanelle pouted playfully and offered a casual shrug of her shoulders. “I do not mind.”

“Yes, you do.” Eve teased. “I am your gift, I love you every day, even though you give me hell.”

“I will take that gift.” Villanelle leaned in and kissed her. “I did not get you anything either.”

Eve raised her eyebrows.

That was unheard of, Villanelle never missed an opportunity to waste their money, the little they had since buying the farm, on gifts for Eve that they absolutely could do without.

“…okay.”

Villanelle smirked. “Do not be disappointed, Eve, I am the gift.” Villanelle boasted, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

Eve laughed, nodded. “Okay, I accept that gift,” she agreed, reaching for the woman, pulling her closer, kissing her, “It’s a good gift.”

Villanelle kissed her back for a moment, pulled back just enough to look at her, smiled. “No. You are misunderstanding.”

Eve furrowed her eyebrows.

“I am your gift.” Villanelle sighed, smiled, paused as she tried to find the right words. “Eve, I cannot marry you, it is impossible—” the woman started, Eve’s face fell.

“I really don’t want to argue V, not today.”

“Will you let me talk then?”

Eve pursed her lips, nodded her head.

“I cannot marry you… not… you know, legally. We do not have the right paperwork.” Eve didn’t want to hear her excuses, wanted to shush her but resisted the urge to out of curiosity. “But we do have the same last name, we are accidentally married, and if you wanted to, we could get everyone together and exchange vows, if you wanted to?”

Eve gaped, looked at her in disbelief, shook her head. “You’re lying, you don’t want to do that, V.”

Villanelle sighed, reached for her cheeks, made her look at her. “It was not about not wanting to marry you, Eve. I am committed to you whether we are married or not, but this is important to you and the best that I can do.”

Eve sighed, bit back a smile. “You have to be sure.”

Villanelle nodded. “I am sure.”

Eve beamed. “Okay.”

-

Villanelle had been uncompromising about her suit. A custom white Dries Van Noten number that she had gone all the way to Belgium to be fitted for.

They hadn’t been so far apart for so long at all since they had decided to leave together in Rome.

Eve missed her terribly.

Her new friend Anika who owned a restaurant in the nearby town had insisted they go dress shopping, to take her mind off of how much she was missing ‘Maria’.

It was hard, the names, the half-truths, but God it was so worth it.

She found a dress.

It was rather pricey, which she knew would satisfy Villanelle’s requirements, and it wasn’t dissimilar to styles the younger woman had bought for her in the past.

She looked good, she felt good, so she took it home.

-

Anika and her husband Tony had insisted they hold the wedding at the restaurant. They would get married in the courtyard and then eat and dance inside.

Eve wanted the wedding, the day, the dress, the woman, but she didn’t want a hands-on role in planning the damn thing, so she was pleased to hand over the responsibility to Anika.

It was almost an open invitation wedding or a word-of-mouth invitation. All of their friends and acquaintances were on the invite list, and they were welcome to bring guests of their own to make up numbers.

They didn’t know that many people, but most people in the small town didn’t need an excuse to have a party.

A summer wedding, a gorgeous summer wedding.

Villanelle opted to wait, Eve walked to her down the makeshift aisle.

They smiled, they couldn’t stop smiling.

Villanelle looked like she might cry.

Tony was officiating, they went through the motions, Eve anxious to get to the vows.

She had hers memorised but chuckled as Villanelle produced a scrap of paper from her jacket pocket with shaking hands, watched her try to hold it steady enough to read from it, reached a reassuring hand out to her and smiled.

“Relax.” She whispered.

“I am not good at public speaking,” Villanelle laughed, the usually confident woman looking unusually uncomfortable as she glanced around at their guests. “Susie, you have not made it easy for me.” Eve cringed at the name but smiled at the truth in Villanelle’s words – she hadn’t. “It was not easy, but getting you to fall in love with me, to give me a chance has been my most rewarding challenge to date.” Villanelle paused, adjusted the paper in her hands and looked over at Eve again. “You are my partner in crime,” Villanelle winked, Eve rolled her eyes, “and I am grateful that you gave me a second chance, a third chance, a fourth chance… I have lost count.”

“Truly, I know that I do not deserve you, that I never did.” Villanelle continued. “I am a difficult person, I understand that. I am very lucky to have found someone that does not expect me to change or to be someone else. It was not easy, but you took the time to get to know me, who I really am, and you love me for exactly that—even if it did take you so long to realise it.” Villanelle beamed, Eve followed suit. “You make me so happy, you make me feel alive, you make me… feel things, really intense, scary things that are _less_ scary only because I have you by my side. I simply cannot imagine my life without you in it.” Her lip quivered and Eve lifted an instinctive hand to her cheek, caressed it. “I promise to always be committed to you, to take care of you, to look after you when we are old and grey…” she trailed off for a second, “you will get there first.” Everyone laughed. It caught Villanelle off guard and she scrambled as she tried to recapture her train of thought. A furious shake of her head and: “I love you.” Villanelle’s lip quivered, Eve smiled, gave her a reassuring nod and resisted the urge to comfort her with endless kisses.

It was her turn.

She reached out her other hand, caressing both of her cheeks now. “I may not have loved you for as long as you have loved me, but you have been at the centre of my universe for longer than I care to admit.” Villanelle brightened at that, a grin taking over almost her whole face. “You ruined my life for a long time, I resented you… hell, I hated you, but the more I got to know you, spending the last few years with you... Darling, you are a genius, you are so, incredibly special, you are so worthy of love, my love, everyone’s love.”

She took a breath. “We have not always had an easy time, but you have always proven yourself to me, proven how much you value and appreciate me, proven your love for me. You are so protective and kind and selfless when it comes to me and I am so lucky that I get to see a side of you that no one else has ever seen. I love our adventures, each and every one of them. I love our life, the travelling we have done, the work we have done. I love each and every one of our troubles and how they have strengthened us as a couple, how they have brought me closer to you.”

“I vow to fiercely love you, sweetheart. Despite everything, despite anything. I vow to forgive you when you make mistakes, let's face it, we both will. There is no one in the world I would rather share this life with. You are perfect for me, just perfect.”

Villanelle was crying now, stepping closer to her, taking Eve into her arms.

“Eve, I love you,” she whispered, keeping her close.

“I love you too.”

They were pronounced wives, they kissed.

They went inside and they ate and drank and danced and they _loved._

Dancing with their friends, they stole glances at one another, smiling brightly.

It was perfect.

-

_Villanelle had decided on Santorini for their honeymoon destination. Eve had relented, still unable to get to the bottom of why the woman’s wanderlust didn’t extend beyond the parameters of Europe._

_She had imagined the Maldives, the Caribbean, Fiji, Thailand, but Villanelle had shut her down at every turn._

_She had shrugged it off, pleased enough that she had managed to tie the woman down at all._

_Years of effort, troubles, love, forgiveness, openness and trust had gotten them here._

_She loved Villanelle, despite everything, irrespective of anything._

_Villanelle remained at the centre of her universe, everything revolved around her, as it always had._

_“I love you.” she proclaimed out of nowhere as she watched Villanelle demolish her ice cream. “Thank you.”_

_Villanelle polished it off, brows furrowed, closing the distance between them again, wrapping her arms around the older woman. “What for?”_

_Eve shrugged. “Everything. This life. You. Everything.”_

_Villanelle rolled her eyes. “You are very sappy, Eve,” she teased, dropping down on top of her on the bed. “I love you too.”_

**Author's Note:**

> I'm over on twitter if you want to chat!! -- @song4everystory


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